The Snow Song

by Heath Pfaff

  What signal triggered the first move, was beyond my ability to determine. Suddenly both women exploded forward, their practice weapons weaving through the patterns of battle like a bird of prey cuts the sky, chasing its quarry. Malice, for all the skill that she had lost when her memories fled, was still better with a blade than I was. Snow was as well. I had seen many blades clash over the years, but when Malice and Snow faced off, it was like watching physical poetry.

  It became obvious after very little time that Snow had the upper hand. She knew more tricks, and her form was more flawlessly executed. Malice was losing ground with every pass, and it was only a matter of time before she faltered. I watched, stifling my urge to interfere. I knew what was coming, but it wasn't my place to come between the two women. The practice field, and their sparring matches, were theirs.

  It happened suddenly. Malice's guard passed perilously low, Snow feinted high, the green-eyed girl responded by making a drastic correction, and Snow changed her blade's momentum and feinted low. Even further off balance, Malice again forced her guard low to counter. This time, as Snow changed direction once more, I saw the finishing blow. The wooden wand caught Malice on the left side of the face hard enough to knock the girl backwards, and to send a jet of blood into the air. I winced. That was a solid hit.

  I came forward to check on Malice, but Snow had already come to her side, and was knelt on the ground, her weapon discarded.

  "Are you alright?" Snow asked.

  Malice was clutching the side of her face that had been struck by Snow's weapon. I could see a deep bruise forming there, from around her viciously clawed fingers. I knew the bruise would form and pass within an hour, with Malice's healing abilities, but I still didn't like to see it. However, I could not fault Snow for the injury. The practice match had been well fought on both sides, and Snow had only done what was necessary to teach a lesson.

  The red-haired girl nodded, looking sullen. "Yes." She said, miserably.

  "You did well." Snow announced, standing up and offering a hand to her fallen opponent.

  "I lost again." Laouna answered, accepting the hand and allowing Snow to pull her back to her feet.

  "Your form is still weak, and you allowed your blade to be teased out of position." Snow reprimanded, but without the sting of gloating. Malice's expression turned even more sullen.

  "However, you also showed a surprising level of adaptability, and an impressive ability to recall, and quickly apply, the different forms you've been taught." Snow continued. "Your performance today was better than yesterday. I'm very proud of you."

  Malice did something she rarely did. As her hand fell away from her face, she actually smiled at her instructor. Her cheek was badly bruised, and there was a split on the skin, though that had mostly closed already. Her sullenness seemed to flee before Snow's praise.

  "This doesn't mean you can stop practicing your forms." Snow snapped, her face taking on the grim expression it generally did when she was being an instructor. "You must work even harder, now, to fix the flaws in your style. I will go harder on you from here on out."

  Malice nodded once. "I will work hard, Snow." She said, and there was determination in her voice. The competition was at an end. Snow had won the fight, but more than that, I believed the two women had once more reestablished their level of mutual respect. That was as it should be.

  Snow turned to me. "What are you staring at? You haven't worked half as hard as she has, and you've only mastered a third of the techniques. You might be able to beat her now, through brute strength, but strength will only get you so far." Her face was stern.

  "Hmmm," I replied, unhappy with the sudden change in direction the situation had taken. Snow, I realized, was now ready to start pounding out my weaknesses. I didn't savor the notion.

  The morning of departure came quickly, a flurry of activity buzzed throughout the castle. It was well known that I - with my retinue of Knights - was soon to be departing the capital on a hunting trip. Of course, the "hunting trip" was only a pretext under which we were actually slipping quietly out of the kingdom. All of the black cloaks, and all of the remaining Knights of Ethan, were ready to march. The Knights had been told of what was really happening, but the Black Patch Brigade remained oblivious. I had tried to talk about it with Liet, but my once-companion was uninterested in anything more than what his orders were for the duration of the coming events. I knew that had I tried to discuss the matter with any of the other black cloaks, they would have been equally uninterested.

  As I prepared to leave, my pack strapped beneath my brilliant blue cloak, Ethaniel came marching through my bedroom door. Laouna shot him an acidic look from where she sat perched on the edge of my bed as he entered uninvited. Laouna was already prepared to leave, her own pack in place, and her shifting cloak wrapped about her shoulders. She looked almost like any other Knight, dressed in such a fashion. Her expression, and her relaxed manner, betrayed the illusion.

  "What is this about a public address before you leave the capital today?" Ethaniel demanded, angered that he had been left out of the loop. I ignored the piercing gaze of his gray eyes, and replied calmly.

  "I'm going to address the people before we depart. I have something to tell them; a last act as king." I explained. I had gone to great lengths to carry out my plans with as little notice as possible. Very few of the castle staff had been told of what was to be done, and only those few in high positions and with a lot to lose should any information leak out.

  ". . . and what is the nature of this 'last act'?" Ethaniel pressed, his ire still obvious in the tone of his voice.

  "You'll find out at the announcement, with the others." I told him. I didn't want him to try and stop me, and there was a chance that he would, if he knew what I intended.

  A low growl issued from Ethaniel. "You shouldn't be keeping secrets. Things are dangerous enough as they are. You endanger us all with your carelessness." The old Knight threatened.

  "That is true. Things are dangerous, and what I have in mind will not change that one way or the other." I looked at Ethaniel, my eyes locking with his black eyes, shying clear of the gray, smoke and hostility-filled eyes above. "Have I not proven that I have at least some sense in all the time you've known me?"

  Ethaniel did not reply immediately. "I'm your advisor. You have an obligation to share your plans with me, otherwise I cannot advise." He finally snapped.

  "I have looked to you on most major decisions, Ethaniel, but this is something that I have to do. You don't have to approve of it, but you'll learn nothing more from me until I make the announcement." I held firm to my conviction. I was committed to my course of action, and would not allow my four-eyed advisor to dissuade me.

  Ethaniel's fists clenched at his sides. He seemed about to say something more, but then thought better of it. He turned and left the room, his cape snapping in his wake. The encounter had gone almost as badly as I'd feared it would, though perhaps not as badly as my imagination had conspired to make me believe. My head was still attached to my shoulders.

  "He scares me." I heard Laouna say, and I turned to see that she had gotten up from the bed and was standing just a few feet behind me. She wore a sword at her side, and her hand was on the hilt.

  "He's been an advisor to the king for a long time." I told her, making my voice as soothing as possible. "He's a good man, proven through years of service. You don't need to fear him." I told her, but the truth of that matter was that I feared Ethaniel as well. There was something dark about the old Knight, and it was a darkness that only seemed to grow by the week. Could it be so easily explained away as stress? I often wondered.

  Malice shook her head. "He's a monster."

  I forced a smile. I had heard that term used to describe me on many occasions. It had become almost a curse in my ears.

  "He is no more a monster than am I." I told her, but I was not certain I believed those words as strongly as I might have years before. Ethaniel had sent assassins after Silent
, and he had told me I should have accepted Lheec's daughter despite her age and hesitance. Maybe he was a loyal king's man, but could his judgment be trusted? I wanted to believe that it could, but every time I looked into his smoky-gray eyes, and saw the rage and violence within them, I found myself questioning his motives.

  "You're not a monster. You're just sad." Malice's voice cut across my thoughts. I looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

  "Sad?" I asked, uncertain what she meant.

  "Sad." She repeated.

  "What makes you think that I'm sad?" I asked.

  She shrugged her reply. "Sometimes you just look sad. I don't know why. You don't smile a lot."

  I'd heard it said, that children had a different way of seeing the world, and that sometimes they picked up on subtle signals that adults, hardened to the world, did not see. I wondered if Malice had that same clarity of vision, or if she simply knew me well enough to see through the facade of cold indifference I tended to wear.

  "Sometimes I think I get too busy, and I forget that it's alright to smile." I told her, the words little more than an excuse for all the reasons I actually did not care to smile.

  Malice stepped forward and locked her left arm in the crook of my right arm. "You should smile as often as you can." The green-eyed girl, suddenly serious, told me. "It will make you feel better."

  I considered her for a moment, thinking on what she'd said. Was a smile the source of good humor, or was good humor the source of a smile? In an ideal world, I thought, maybe just smiling could bring happiness, but I had too many bad memories, and too many worries still ahead, to smile away my troubles. I forced the expression once more for Malice.

  She sighed. "I know when you're not really doing it." She said. "You're not good at faking it."

  I let the expression fade away. "I'll have to work on my fake smile then."

  Malice punched me in the shoulder with her free right hand, not hard, but hard enough to make me wince, at least in feigned discomfort.

  "That's not how it works. You have to really be happy." She said, irritated.

  "I guess I shall have to work on that instead." I said, in all seriousness.

  "Good." She responded. We walked out of the room together. Liet, and the other black cloak on duty, fell in behind us. It was time to leave.

  I stood in the middle of the procession of Black Patch Brigade and Knights. I knew the names of all the remaining Knights of Ethan, but the black cloaks far outnumbered them. There were nearly a thousand of the menacing, black-hooded figures in my retinue, all of them with their hard-set, dark eyes gleaming from beneath their hoods. Each of them was an individual explosion of violence contained by black thread. Would the magic that bound them to me loyally, last indefinitely? That was something I couldn't know for sure. I was no master in the arts of magic, but I feared for the worst. I wanted to give those wretched men back their humanity, but what humanity really remained in them? Their eyes, but for seldom few times, always burned with the powerful hatred, and terrible hunger of the Fell Beast to which they were bound. It was dark magic, indeed, that had crafted their bodies.

  The wind kicked up, and I drew my cloak about my shoulders more tightly. The fabric was magic. It could resist cutting to an extent, and kept the same comfortable temperature on the inside, but strong wind still made me want to clutch the fabric more tightly about me. I felt out of place dressed in my bright blue cloak. All around me were black figures, punctuated by the occasional shifting cloak of the Knights of Ethan. In their midst, I was like a beacon of brightness, drawing all eyes as we passed through the busy streets of Kreo.

  The people were assembling. The city criers had been out before us, and they had announced that I would be holding a public assembly in the city center before departing on my hunting trip. The eyes that sought me in the crowd all held barely contained hostility. No few of those common people, those subjects of the king, would gladly have seen me drawn from my crowd of protectors and murdered in the streets. An occasional rock sailed through the air, to be knocked aside by my black cloak protectors.

  As a Knight of Ethan I had been feared, and even hated by some, but as a king I was feared by none, and hated by all. Many people dreamed of becoming a king some day, and of having the power to make the changes they wanted, and to live a life of luxury. I, however, had my fill of royal life. There was little freedom as the king, and the life of luxury was little more than a gilded cage. I was watched constantly, and never free to do as I wished for a moment. In the years I had served the kingdom, I'd had not a single moment of real privacy. The nights in my room, and those spent with Snow, had been the closest I'd managed, and even then the black cloaks, my ever present guards, had been no further away than the span of a room, and the thickness of a door.

  It was strange, but I could look back on the time I'd spent traveling with Malice, running through the forests of the kingdom of men, with no one watching but the birds and the sky, and I envied those moments. Life had been hard, and we had been running for a purpose, but I'd had freedom. As the king, I was still driven by purpose, but freedom was lost. My life was not my own. Even once I left the lands of men, the Black Patch Brigade would remain. They were bound to me until I died, or until they died. That was a grim reality that I didn't wish to dwell upon. I was one monster, tied to hundreds.

  We cut a wide channel through the city streets on our way to the public square. The people, though curious and eager to throw insults and whatever else they might have on their person, at the king, were still terrified of the Knights of Ethan, and the black cloaks. They gave us distance, if for no other reason than that they feared getting too close to one of my savage guards.

  I flexed the muscles in my back, feeling the weight of my new sword as the strap pressed against my flesh there. It was a comforting feeling. The blade was too long to be worn at my side in the normal fashion.

  Snow had been right. The reforged weapon was a thing of beauty, but one that retained the spirit of the blade it had been built from. The scabbard was a special construction as well. It was designed to allow the blade to slip from the side with ease, so that I could draw the weapon quickly in a time of need. There was a simple catch that I could spring with my drawing hand, and the blade would fall into my ready palm in an instant. The catch was designed so that it would take a precise effort from me to release it, so that my blade would not come lose at inopportune times. It was a very clever design, and one that Snow had assured me was entirely hers. She had no shortage of confidence in her work.

  I had been wearing the blade ever since I received it. It made my retainers uncomfortable, and drew stares, but it felt good to have a weapon on all the time again. For sitting and such, a simple pull of one of two straps shifted the blade from the center of my back, to either side. If I could just be rid of my blue cloak, I thought, I might finally feel more like my old self. Perhaps I should have been ashamed for feeling more comfortable while wearing a weapon, but I had spent most of my time as a young man fighting for my life, and thrust into situations where my survival was dependent upon being able to defend myself. A sword was an assurance that I would not have to face a foe unprepared. Perhaps, I thought, if politicians squared off in such a manor, decisions might be made more quickly and with less dishonesty. Steel never lies.

  We finally reached the city square. People were pilling in from all the side streets, filling the entire area. They created a wide channel for my men and me to pass through. There was a terrible tension in the air. I felt as though at any minute fighting might break out. I made my way towards the stone pedestal, an open stage that stood in the middle of the clearing. The large stone had been damaged in the Hungering attack, crumpled by one of their black drakes, but enough of it still stood that I could make my way to the top of it, and thus put myself higher than those assembled around me. More and more people poured into the public square, even as I took to the pedestal.

  In front of the masses of people of Kreo, I felt exposed. Thei
r hate-filled eyes lashed my body like whips. Their hostility was like a wave upon which I must ride, or fall and succumb to the fury of their potent wrath. I looked around me, for I was surrounded by masses of people on all sides. I saw the eyes of the denizens of Kreo, but also the eyes of Ethaniel, and the other Knights of Ethan. Some few of them, too, I noticed, were hostile to me. Snow and Malice, those four eyes looked upon me not with hostility, but with curiosity. They gave me strength, or I took strength from them. I couldn't be certain.

  I held up my arm, hand stretched out wide, and silence passed through the crowd around me, spreading from those nearest me, and outward like a great wave through the assembly. I waited for quiet. As with any large crowd, it never grew absolute, but it became close enough. I began.

  "As you all know by now, I will be leaving on a hunting trip for the next few months." A murmur of dissatisfaction swept through the audience at my words. They believed I had called the assembly just to announce what they had already known. "However," I spoke loudly, firmly, my voice carrying to the ends of the clearing and beyond. Silence fell once more. "I would not leave and have my people left in misery while I am gone. I know only too well that times have been difficult for the people of Kreo. I have heard your complaints, and I have thought long and hard on how I could best serve the people."

  "You could kill yourself and let a man take the crown!" Someone yelled from the throng, and a roll of uneasy laughter filled the clearing.

  I ignored the words, and stuck to my original purpose. "Today I am here to announce that, over the course of the next week, every citizen of Kreo will be entitled to a sum of gold, and a provision of the king's land, to be handed out at the castle." I paused for a moment, and heard a wave of awe pass through the crowed, followed by whispers, and a general confusion. "This gift will be given to every man, woman and child, but only once."